First encounters of the third kind

It was one of those unexpected things that happen in life, and it happened with great thoroughness. Little did Cha know of what fate beheld for her that day. And it all just started because she was thirsty. Or, let's admit, not entirely just thirsty. She felt like a good glass of wine to celebrate her newly acquired first rifter. Well, newly - it had been labeled as second-hand, but it wouldn't have surprised her when it would have been third- or even fourth-hand really. She desperately needed a job.

And so she walked into a bar with a simple plan for a good glass of wine and the appropriate amount of ISK.
Unfortunately the Gyng Pilkington Inn was packed with Amarr recruits on leave, swarming all over the station to find plenty of distraction, games and other less public means of whiling away the time.
Not that she had noticed at first. Cha usually went her ways in a blissful bubble of non-communication, except for the people she learned to like, and even that took time. Of course, once she found people likeable enough to talk to, she wouldn't stop talking either.

She never made it to the counter, let alone to a good glass of wine.
"Who are you people?" she said, "Stop looking at me like that."
"I didn't know they had miniature versions of Brutors," badgered a tall blonde guy, and a broadshouldered redhaired fellow added something about hypnotic curves of glorious small female tribal Brutor bodies, to which a brutal roar of laughter filled the inn.
"How inconsiderate", she thought. It was not as if she didn't know she was smaller than most Brutor. In fact, it had always bothered her more than she ever would concede.
And she couldn't see the counter anymore - too many Amarr uniforms in her line of sight. And oh my, the uniforms seemed to push closer by.
Cha got a little annoyed now. The thought of a more violent method to get closer to the wine crossed her mind, but after all she was a peaceful soul, albeit with little patience dealing with people who clearly lacked a good upbringing, even when they showed aesthetic sensitivity.

Until she felt a hand on her butt.
Enough to make anyone, but small female tribal Brutors in particular, lose their nerve.

She always, instantly, felt the need to inflict bloody, messy carnage on anybody laying hands on her butt. Especially when the hands were from Amarr with their cruel god of wrath and slavery.
As a proof of good faith in her own Minmatar gods, Cha levelled a fist in a generally horizontal direction and, to her own surprise, floored the tall blonde guy. "Oh no," she panicked consequently when she saw the blood run out of his nose, "he'll make a fine mess over the poor carpet." She looked around if she could see the patron, ready to apologize and negociate her way out of the ISK the carpet drycleansing surely would cost her.

The other Amarr now behaved extremely bothersome though: they became grabby. “Hey!”, she uttered, “leave that!”, but to no avail. She jumped around trying to evade them, flitting hands and feet about. Granted not in the most elegant way, but she didn't know what to do otherwise anyway. She got a tad angry now. She just wanted to plant another fist right smack in the middle of the face of the next Amarr, but they didnt seem to want to cooperate. Every time before she knew where they were, they were somewhere else. One time her foot hit someone before her fist could, next her elbow planted itself in an other face, right when she wanted to hit it. She got a bit upset by the continual necessity for paying attention to where her targets went - why couldn't they just stand still so she could properly hit them?
Cha made what she deemed to be awkward vertical leaps as she sometimes passed a surprised Amarr overhead, sometimes, indeed, succeeding in striking him feebly, but more frequently overthrown by her own eagerness, describing a parabolic curve and descending upon her next victim at just the exact angle of incidence to take him out.

Suddenly, there was a profound silence.
Before her stood a man with a gloomy, unsociable attitude and a lasergun.
He didn't look happy.
"Oh," Cha panted, "i think i am to be prohibited to come to the conclusion of this work."
The man didn't answer, just looked very glum. Surely some deep disappointment in early life had soured his disposition.
"No wine today huh," Cha assumed.
He compressed his lips angrily. The gun flashed out with a loud report, truely a compelling motive for Cha's sudden deviation. She sprang to one side, lapsed and rolled over, stumbled back on her feet, tripped over a chair, bellyflopped sideways and, to her no small astonishment, tumbled backwards over a balustrade that she could have sworn wasn't there a second before, all in a crossfire of lasered lines.
"This is unreal," Cha thought woozy while she plummeted through the glass panels under her.

She landed unharmed on her back, amongst an exquisite display of fresh vegetables, crackers and sliced baguette, sweet and sour sauce and grilled chicken, and a lot of glass.
The two people at the table leaned back in their chair, but didn't even wink.
"If that isn't an omen then what is," said the silverhaired Caldari woman at her left, her calm features unmoved apart from one raised eyebrow. "Fascinating indeed", replied the giant Brutor at her right with a vague underlying sense of amusement.
"O yea!" Cha threw out angrily – "Personally i think it is better to have a permanent income than to be fascinating!"
"Well", the woman replied with a slow smile, “I think we can arrange for that.”

And that is how Cha met the ceo's of the Stillwater Corporation.